


I (Don't) Need your Touch

by Batfink



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint has no Wife, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Sexual Content, Short One Shot, Swearing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Touching, which won't be discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batfink/pseuds/Batfink
Summary: There are two types of people in this world.  Those who like to touch and be touched and those who do not.Tony was in the former camp, Clint most definitely in the latter.  It made for a challenging relationship, at least from Tony's point of view.





	I (Don't) Need your Touch

Clint strolled into Tony's lab and dropped a pizza box on the workbench. “Brought you dinner.” He smiled at Tony.

“Thanks, Babe.” Tony grinned reaching over and pulling the box closer. “I'll be done soon if you wanna stop by later?”

Clint nodded. “Sure.” He turned and left the lab.

Tony watched him go, then turned back to the pizza.

\--- 

There are two types of people in this world. Those who like to touch and be touched and those who do not.

Tony was in the former camp, Clint most definitely in the latter. It made for a challenging relationship, at least from Tony's point of view.

Clint was everything Tony could want in a partner. Caring, funny, willing to put up with Tony's craziness, willing to participate in a lot of said craziness. He always made sure Tony was okay and brought him food daily, but he rarely let Tony touch him. They had a physical relationship, but it wasn't like you might think.

Tony shovelled away the pizza and then went back to work. A few hours later he was finished and ready to call it a night. He took the lift up to his penthouse and strolled through to the bathroom. Shedding his clothes, he turned on the shower and stepped inside.

He soaped himself up, his favourite shower gel creating lots of foamy bubbles which were great for helping his hands slide smoothly across his skin. He gave his cock a few gentle strokes to get himself started before lifting one foot up to rest on the ledge at the side of the shower cubicle. Slowly he set about teasing his fingers against his hole, before sliding one inside.

He closed his eyes and rested his other hand on the wall for support. Tried to imagine it was Clint's fingers, not his own that were doing this job even though he knew this was something Clint would never do. He was three fingers in when the bathroom door opened and Clint stepped inside smiling when he glanced across and saw what Tony was doing.

“Nearly ready, Babe.” Tony informed him and Clint nodded, crossing the room and scooping up a towel which he unfolded and held up. Tony wiggled his fingers a few more times to be sure and then removed them, quickly rinsing off the shower gel before turning off the water.

He stepped out of the shower and Clint threw the towel at him. Tony grabbed it and quickly rubbed himself down before heading through into his bedroom, Clint following after.

As Tony crawled onto his bed, Clint began stripping off his clothes. As always, Tony's fingers twitched to reach out and touch him, but he knew if he tried, Clint would leave so instead he stretched out on his back pulling down a pillow to slide under his hips before spreading his legs to allow Clint to crawl up between them.

Clint paused to pour lube over his cock from the bottle Tony had left out for him, eyes fixed on Tony, a grin on his face as he waited for Tony to get comfortable. When he was, Tony raised his hands above his head and wrapped them around the bars of the headboard. “Good boy.” Clint whispered and Tony flushed from the praise.

Clint shuffled forward and lined his cock up with Tony's ass. “Okay?” He asked and Tony nodded. Clint slowly began his push into Tony, edging forward in slow increments. When he was fully seated, he leaned forward over Tony, placing one hand on either side of the pillow Tony's head was resting on before slowly beginning to rock in and out of Tony's ass.

Clint always started out slow, thrusting deep, gazing down at Tony who never looked away. It was sensual and affectionate and to Tony's mind at least, a total contrast to Clint's no touching policy. As the pressure started to build, Clint would increase his pace as Tony's grip tightened on the headboard. He would push down sharply against Clint's upward thrusts and both of them would shift. In the only concession to touch that Clint would allow during these encounters, he would slide his right hand under Tony's thigh and pull until Tony's leg was wrapped around his waist before returning his hand to the pillow by Tony's head. Tony would move his other leg so that both were circling him holding tight while Clint targeted his prostate.

Clint never touched Tony's cock. If Tony couldn't come from Clint fucking him alone, he could lower one hand to stroke himself. No matter how long it took, or which method Tony went with, Clint would never come before Tony. Tony had tried on several occasions to get Clint to finish first. Shifting so that Clint was missing his prostate, refusing to touch himself, trying to think about the most boring things he could, but Clint was relentless. He would simply quirk an eyebrow, lean further over Tony and re-position his cock until Tony was pushed over the edge anyway.

When they were done, Clint would slip from the bed and pull on his boxers. “Go wash up. I'll get the food on.”

Tony would drag himself off to the en-suite, while Clint would go potter about in the kitchen making Tony food. This happened no matter what time of day or night it was. After sex, Clint made food. That was just his thing and as much as Tony found it amusing and in many cases, he really wasn't hungry, he never protested. It was Clint's way of showing affection and Tony wasn't going to discourage it.

There was one exception to the whole 'hands to yourself' thing that Clint had going on and that was what happened after battles. When they were both pumped up on adrenaline and the thrill of surviving Clint would follow Tony to some secluded spot away from the others and allow him to drop to his knees. He would allow Tony to unfasten his trousers and pull out his cock, would allow Tony to wrap his mouth around it while his hands wrapped around the back of Clint's thighs and held him close. Then and only then would Clint reach out and touch him. Would slide his fingers into Tony's hair and hold on, but he never pulled, never pushed, never thrust his hips towards Tony. He just stood there, holding on until Tony coaxed him to orgasm with this talented mouth.

When he came, he would slump against the wall and wait until Tony stood and tucked him back into his trousers and then he would grin at Tony and follow him back to join the others a fond look cast Tony's direction every time he look his way. He would not allow Tony to go down on him at any other time.

Tony was fine with their arrangement. He knew that Clint loved him in the only way he could and he loved Clint. Did he long to kiss him, of course. Did he wish he could snuggle in bed with him after a hard day, certainly. Yet there was no-one else he would rather have in his life.

He amused himself with thoughts of how he was better off. Clint would have rough hands that would be uncomfortable on bare skin, Tony had seen the callouses from years of pulling bowstrings. Although truthfully, he knew that was a lie as he had plenty of his own and if anything, they could make touch better. He would snore and keep Tony awake all night, hogging the covers and kicking him. Except Tony had watched Clint sleep before. Curled up on the sofa in the communal area. He slept there for hours, never moving, never making a sound and without a blanket.

The last thought Tony had to cling onto was that Clint would be a lousy kisser. He would have to be. He'd never kissed anyone, or so Tony thought. That illusion kept Tony going on many occasions. Why ruin a good thing with bad kissing. Makes perfect sense.

\--- 

After one particularly hard battle where Tony had to sacrifice his own safety to save some civilians and the suit crashed and burned, Tony blacked out. He came to, on the sofa of his penthouse with Clint sitting beside him, eyes glued to his face.

“Hey.” He groaned, voice hoarse and Clint smiled down at him.

“Hey, yourself.” Clint whispered and before Tony had time to react, Clint leaned down and kissed him. Tony's eyes went wide and he forgot to breathe. Clint's tongue touched gently to his bottom lip and Tony instinctively opened his mouth to let it in.

A tentative sweep of Clint's tongue had him shivering, leaning up to press their mouths closer together as Clint shifted, pressing closer into Tony's side and allowing Tony to tangle their tongues together. Tony moaned, fists balling into the sofa cushions as Clint sucked on his bottom lip before pulling back to gaze into Tony's eyes. “I thought for a moment there I had lost you.”

Tony suddenly, remembered he should be breathing and let out a gasp. “Fuck.” He groaned. “If nearly dying is all it takes to get you to kiss me... I should do it more often.”

Clint rolled his eyes but leaned in again and gave Tony a quick peck on the lips. “Not funny Tony.”

“Was that your first kiss?” Tony asked. “Cause if it was, hot damn. Actually, even if it wasn't, hot damn!”

Clint looked away for a moment before turning back. “I'd rather not talk about it.” He said quietly.

“Fine.” Tony grinned at him. “Kiss me again and then neither of us have to talk.”

Clint huffed a laugh but leaned closer, a fist pressed into the cushions by Tony's head, a hand pressed into the back of the sofa above Tony's shoulder. “Hands to yourself.”

Tony nodded and kept his hands fisted in the cushions as he raised his mouth to meet Clint's. Clint's lips were soft and plump. They slotted perfectly against Tony's. His tongue dragged backwards across Tony's then flicked up to stroke forward along the roof of Tony's mouth. Tony's cock twitched and his fingers ached to reach out and grab Clint, but instead he gripped the cushions tighter. Clint's tongue swept along Tony's and Tony swirled his tongue up to wrap around it tilting his head and pressing their lips tighter together. He was breathing through his nose is short bursts, lungs screaming for more air but he was not going to be the one to break this kiss.

Whatever it took, Tony thought to himself as Clint's tongue worked it's magic against his, he had to convince Clint to keep kissing him. This was one experience he wouldn't be able to live with only getting to have once.


End file.
